


smile about it.

by skepticallysighing



Series: 30 Días de Recuperación [8]
Category: Primal Fear (1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Happy AU, Intern AU, nothing bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 14:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticallysighing/pseuds/skepticallysighing
Summary: “Is the kid who chopped up the Archbishop our client?” he asked as Marty sat down. He knew it was, but there was no way. No fucking way-“You have to start to get “allegedly” into your vocabulary if you wanna be a lawyer,” he said with a shit-eating grin. Tommy let out a breath and leaned back, rolling his eyes to the high heavens, but nonetheless pulling out his own pocket notebook.Of course he would. Why would you ever doubt him?Naomi and the intern tried to step into the room at the same time, and the intern yielded to let her enter first.“Okay, I’m ready,” Naomi said.“Here you go, M-...m-Mister Vail,” the intern stuttered, setting a cup of coffee on Marty’s desk. “Mr. Goodman, do y-y-”“Sure, thanks, Aaron,” Tommy said, cutting him off.The intern, Aaron, smiled a little and nodded, all aglow as he went to pour a second cup.ORPrimal Fear happy alternative could've-been universe
Series: 30 Días de Recuperación [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090907
Kudos: 2





	smile about it.

When Tommy came into the office, the intern and Naomi were already there. They were both gathered over the desk, staring at the mini TV and watching the news coverage. Even without seeing the footage of a blood-soaked figure kid from police across the Chicago landscape, he knew what they were watching.

“Tommy-” she said quickly, looking back over her shoulder with the intent to tell him the news -- at least, till he saw he had today’s newspaper in hand.

“I know,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket. “Is Marty in yet?”

“He’s running late,” she said. “I think-”

“No. No, he wouldn’t do that.”

He absolutely would.

Tommy had settled down with the newspaper in Marty’s office. The TV was already on, showing footage of the killer running away. The title screamed “ARCHBISHOP MURDER IN CHICAGO”, and the details were worrying and ambiguous; the beloved Archbishop Rushman had been  _ brutally  _ murdered, though the paper danced around exactly how. A big photo of the church where he had been next to a smiling photo of Rushman’s face made for quite the image. Then there was the photo of the kid who had kil-

Marty opened doors louder than anyone else, and Tommy flicked off the TV to give him the floor.

“Sorry I’m late,” Marty grinned as he came into the office, Naomi trailing right behind him. “ _ We _ have a new client.”

“I was afraid you were gonna say that,” she said, playing with her pen. “You know what they’re calling ’em? The Butcher of Saint Mike’s.”

It made Marty laugh.

“I like that.”

“Well, good, you’ll be hearing it a lot,” Naomi returned dryly, stepping out to grab her writing pad. Tommy rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward to show off the paper to Marty. The asshole raised his eyebrows, like it was funny.

“Is the kid who chopped up the Archbishop our client?” he asked as Marty sat down. He knew it was, but there was no way.  _ No fucking way _ -

“You have to start to get “allegedly” into your vocabulary if you wanna be a lawyer,” he said with a shit-eating grin. Tommy let out a breath and leaned back, rolling his eyes to the high heavens, but nonetheless pulling out his own pocket notebook.

_ Of course he would. Why would you ever doubt him? _

Naomi and the intern tried to step into the room at the same time, and the intern yielded to let her enter first. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” Naomi said.

“Here you go, M-...m-Mister Vail,” the intern stuttered, setting a cup of coffee on Marty’s desk. “Mr. Goodman, do y-y-”

“Sure, thanks, Aaron,” Tommy said, cutting him off.

The intern, Aaron, smiled a little and nodded, all aglow as he went to pour a second cup.

_ Around a year and a half ago, Marty had a case involving some kid named Harper. It didn’t matter what Harper did, because Marty had been too stubborn to call a mistrial when he found out Shaughnessy withheld information from the case. Harper was sentenced five-to-ten in Joliet, where he was assaulted and hung himself _

_ Marty took it hard and blamed himself. _

“So, first of all, her name’s Linda,  _ not _ the Butcher of St. Mike’s,” Marty said, putting his glasses on. “Here’s how it goes: she was in the room when the killing happened, but she says she didn’t do it.”

“Can I stop you there?” Tommy asked quickly.

“No,” Marty said, continuing on. Tommy sulked back into his chair. “She says she was returning a book she borrowed, and she heard screaming coming from the Archbishop’s bedroom. She goes in, and-” 

(Marty couldn’t stop talking with his hands, and Tommy couldn’t stop watching Naomi’s eyes follow every gesture Marty made.)

“-somebody runs right into her, and they’re covered in blood, and it gets all over her. It happened so quickly that she didn’t see who it was-”

“H-”

Marty made a little hand motion that said  _ shut up, I’m talking _ . 

“-but she  _ does _ see the Archbishop murdered. So, she’s covered in blood, she runs for it, she gets into the train tunnel, and then the cops get her. She does have the Archbishop’s ring on her thumb.”

“She stole the Archbishop’s ring?” Tommy asked.

“I didn’t say that, I said it was on her thumb,” Marty corrected.

Tommy shook his head, looking at him in total disbelief. When Marty made no move to carry on, he said: “Is that it?”

“Yep.”

“That’s- um,” Tommy considered his words. “That’s bullshit.”

Naomi smiled.

“Marty, that’s the worst bullshit story I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Now,” Marty said proudly, a grin on his face, “It’s  _ our _ bullshit story!”

_ And then, Marty came into the office with Aaron a few months later. He announced Aaron as his new intern, letting the kid hide slightly behind him while he was introduced. The kid had said “yes, ma’am” and “yes, sir” when anyone spoke to him, least till he learned their names. _

_ Aaron was tall, but he looked like he’d collapse if you flipped a page too quickly. He had been sick, cheeks all sunken in and body folded in on itself to stay warm. He looked like a hare with how his eyes kept flicking around the room, like he’d need to run any second. _

_ Aaron didn’t know this, but he looked quite a bit like Harper. _

“So, let’s get to work,” Marty said, and they all sobered up. “Name of the game, motive. The Prosecution doesn’t have one.”

And  _ that _ was interesting.

“And Linda says she saw someone else, so we can establish someone else committed this crime. So, I need you guys to go find everything about this guy; Database, Hall of Records, IRS files...even his so-called charities.”

Tommy smirked as Naomi chirped up: “So-called? He was a priest, Marty.”

“Naomi, write this down-”

_ So, Marty had seen Aaron on the streets and taken him in. He got the kid clothes, food, and was now setting him up to assist him with whatever lawyer-activities he needed to. Aaron lived with Marty, and after a few months, Mr. Vail got him set up to take online classes so he could get a bachelor’s degree. _

_ The kid was grateful and always called him “Mr. Vail”, doing his darndest to learn everything. _

_ And the kid was sweet. He stuttered like nothing would ever come out, but he’d always ask Tommy and Naomi if they needed help. And he looked so happy. Like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. _

“His fingers were cut off-”

“Allegedly,” Tommy said helpfully. 

“No, factually,” Marty grinned, looking pleased. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Tommy scowled and Naomi covered her laugh.

“And I need case histories on murder by stabbing, mutilation, and religion, and a psychiatrist-”

“You’re telling me,” Naomi jabbed, and Tommy hid his smirk by looking down.

“And not the kind in the witness box, I need a real psychiatrist, and an expert on amnesi-”

“What does she look like?”

Marty hesitated. That’s always how Tommy knew he was gonna say something serious, something that wasn’t a joke. He’d hesitate.

“Like a girl scout,” he said.

“Mr. Goodman?” Aaron asked softly, and Tommy looked up as Aaron entered with a cup of coffee. He reached out, accepting the cup. 

“Thanks.”

Aaron dipped his head a little too much in response.

“Aaron, you wanna sit in and take notes for us?” Marty asked, and Aaron widened his eyes.

“Oh! Yes, sir, I’d- yes-” and he sat down on the couch with Tommy, pulling his own notepad out of his pocket. They’d talk on, and Aaron would keep track.

_ “Why did you pick him up?” Tommy asked Marty. “There’s a hundred homeless kids across the city. Why him?” _

_ Marty had stopped drinking, hesitating, and Tommy braced himself for the truth. _

_ “I had a feeling in my gut,” Marty said, “I saw him sitting on the ground by this wall, and I saw a car slowing down next to him. I just- I had this feeling, so I went over to him and got him out of there.” _

_ “Who was in the car?” _

_ “I don’t know.” _

_ They were quiet. _

_ “I just had a feeling.” _

_ And Tommy had nodded in quiet wonder, because he could tell Marty believed that from the bottom of his heart. _


End file.
